


It Was Only a Kiss (right?)

by fab_ia



Series: the bed that we made together [2]
Category: Time Bombs (Podcast)
Genre: Getting Together, Multi, and here is the AFTERMATH of new years eve, bed sharing, even more gratuitous fluff, misunderstandings (but not in a way that's gonna hurt)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/pseuds/fab_ia
Summary: 'In lieu of any sort of real conversation, the only real adjustment that’s been made is the fact that the three of them are more tactile, now.'Plus: Teller's allergy to serious conversations, predictably sexual cocktail names, mixed signals, and holidays that aren't real holidays.
Relationships: Robert "Radio Bob" Hansen/Simon Teller/Mark Midland
Series: the bed that we made together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118591
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	It Was Only a Kiss (right?)

In lieu of any sort of real conversation regarding whether or not they _want_ to change the relationship between them into something more intimate and far less platonic - likely in part because of Teller’s aversion-borderline-allergy to any sort of serious conversation that actually requires some degree of thought about his feelings - the only real adjustment that’s been made is the fact that the three of them are more tactile, now, and that they all know they kissed on New Year’s, not that it’s been mentioned since. Midland’s not certain whether it’s borne from neither of the others wanting a relationship, which he would be perfectly okay with, or if it’s because they’ve convinced themselves _he_ doesn’t want one and he was just following tradition and didn’t want to leave one of them out by kissing the other. Either option is equally likely, he thinks, because common sense isn’t something Teller’s had as long as he’s known him and Bob’s capability for rational thought practically flies out of the window the second he meets eyes with Teller which, honestly, Midland can’t entirely fault him for. Sometimes _he_ finds it hard to think around the man as well. 

Especially when Teller’s dressed in something he probably wouldn’t wear to work, he’s found, because seeing him in anything different tugs at something in his chest at the thought of _hey, that’s what he wears when he’s doing things_ he _wants to, that’s what he wears around people who know him personally, that’s what he wears around his friends._ It’s not helpful to his reputation as ‘the sensible one’ (his words, Teller preferring to substitute it with ‘boring’ while Bob pretends not to laugh), because Teller in a pair of ripped jeans is something that should probably be made illegal, just like Bob with eyeliner and his nails done. 

So maybe he’s in too deep. _Sue him._

“Wait,” Teller says, as though it’s a sudden realization and not obviously the thing he’s been mulling over the whole time, “why _are_ we going out for drinks tonight?”

Bob gives him an almost scandalized look, glancing over to Midland as if for backup - although he’s already looking over at Teller because he hasn’t got the faintest idea either - before scoffing. 

“It’s because,” he says, as though the two of them are idiots, “it’s ‘fun at work’ day! So we’re going to have _fun.”_

“But we aren’t at work,” Teller says, a little helplessly. “That isn’t even a real holiday!”

“It is,” Bob says, passing his phone over and zooming in on something. Midland leans over, maybe a little more into Teller’s personal space than he really needs to be, and sees that ‘fun at work day’ _is_ actually written down as a real thing. He looks at Teller. Teller looks back at him before they both look to Bob.

“Y’know,” Midland says, “you don’t actually need to come up with an excuse as to why you want to get drinks with us, Bob.”

“No, he does need one,” Teller says. “I’d definitely have said no if I thought he actually just wanted to spend time with me.”

This, Midland thinks, is why none of them can have nice things. He contemplates hiding his head in his hands, his usual response when one of them says something that would otherwise make him consider smashing his forehead against something, while Bob makes a faux-hurt noise and shoves Teller, who’s struggling to stop himself laughing at the indignant look Bob threw his way. _This is why we can’t have nice things._

If they’d gone somewhere a little more upscale, Midland’s sure Bob would have ordered a cocktail with a predictably sexual name entirely for his own amusement and the embarrassment of the bartender over any real curiosity for the taste - “if they don’t want people to order it, they shouldn’t list it for people to buy”. As it is, the three of them just order a beer each and manage to claim a table they can all sit at, Midland sandwiched between the two of them in a decision he’d really had no say in at all, which is also not unusual and not something he’s about to complain about, either. The two of them are warm on either side of him and it might be a little creepy of him to think it, but Bob smells nice, too, in a way that really leaves him with an overwhelming urge to hug him and press his face against his neck just to breathe it in. He’s pretty sure it’s perfume. It’s a _nice_ perfume. He’ll have to find out what it is and get him more for his birthday.

Without any sort of warning or indication that he’s planning to do it although, knowing him, Midland should have expected it, Teller leans his head on Midland’s shoulder. It catches him off-guard and, giving up on pretending that he has any real self-control, he pats his head and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s self-indulgent and, sure, likely out of character for the relatively straight-laced guy they’ve got to know through work, but Teller practically melts at it and doesn’t make any attempt to stop him doing it, which Midland counts as a win.

* * *

“This was really nice,” Midland says, pulling his jacket a little more around himself as they stand outside. “I had a fun time tonight. We should do this more.”

“Oh,” Teller says. “Where - what - you’re going?”

Midland blinks. Teller pouts. Bob, an expert at staying on the sidelines of Teller’s shenanigans-stroke-bullshit whenever it suits him best to avoid getting involved, clears his throat and takes a noticeable step aside, shoving his hands in his pockets.

For a few moments, Midland can only stare. “Why - wouldn’t I be leaving?”

“I assumed you and Bob were gonna come over to my place,” Teller says. “I mean, I guess - I thought - fuck, man, I’m getting some really mixed signals.”

“Mixed - the hell do you mean, ‘mixed signals’? What are you _talking_ about?”

He’s fairly sure he wasn’t sending any sort of signal except for the fact he thinks Teller’s adorable when he’s looking for attention by leaning all over him, and that both he and Bob look unfairly good when they dress as they have. ‘Mixed signals’ his ass. He meets Teller’s eyes, and it takes a few seconds of Teller staring at him incredulously before he shakes his head.

“You were _petting_ me,” Teller says, “like a _cat._ Is it so wrong of me to think that my boyfriend wants to come over and cuddle?”

Midland chokes on his next inhale at the unexpected word because - what. _What?_ “Boyfriend?”

Bob, who seems to find confusion and absolute anguish hilarious, starts to laugh almost hysterically while Teller can still only stare at him, open-mouthed and as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“You kissed us at New Year’s,” he says, slowly, as if explaining something painfully obvious to a child. “Y’know, like - Midland, _Mark,_ did you not… did you just do that platonically?”

“I…” Midland trails off, shaking his head. _What the fuck._ “We never -”

“Okay,” Bob says, finally deigning to intervene and saving Midland from his newfound misery as he wraps his arms around both of them, pulling them apart and against either side of himself, “maybe we _shouldn’t_ talk about this in public? Maybe we should take this discussion somewhere, y’know, private? Where we aren’t all gonna get stared at by people who think we’re even more nuts than we actually are?”

Letting himself be led is another choice he has absolutely no say in, but Midland hardly even notices it this time. He also doesn’t notice how long it takes to get to Teller’s place - the only time he manages to mostly-center himself is when he collapses into the couch, his head finally dropping into his hands as he tries to put everything together.

Once again, in what he’s just realized is their most-common sitting position as of late, he’s sandwiched between the two of them with Bob’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and Teller sitting forward on the couch so he can look over at Midland and attempt to meet his eyes. It doesn’t work, exactly, since Midland’s trying to melt into the old and cracked leather and pretending that he doesn’t exist anymore.

 _Motherfucker,_ he keeps thinking, _have I been the oblivious one this whole time?_

It isn’t as though he hadn’t noticed the three of them had grown closer, but he’d assumed that was because he’d shown he was more than okay with being touched and that he was comfortable around them or the fact that they’ve worked together for a decent amount of time, now. It’s not like he hadn’t _noticed,_ but nobody ever said that it meant they were dating - not that he can remember, at least. 

“So,” Bob says, kissing his teeth and dragging out the ‘o’ in what Midland assumes is a way to try and dissolve the awkward air that’s filled the apartment. “You, uh… I think we’ve got some stuff to talk about?”

“Boyfriend,” Midland says again, disbelieving, although it really comes out as more of a mumble because his face is covered by his palms. It’s more or less the only thing he thinks that he’s capable of saying at this point. It’s like an echo in his head, it’s not something he ever really imagined he would hear Teller say.

“Yeah,” Teller says, still as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Boyfriend. _Our_ boyfriend.”

“You did kiss us,” Bob agrees, “like, you can’t argue with that.”

“Did -” Midland swallows and sits up, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks between them. “You thought - you both _want_ to date me?”

Teller sighs and Bob starts to laugh again, pulling him into another hug from where he’d broken out of his arms while sitting up. He presses a kiss to the side of his hair and murmurs something that Midland’s fairly sure is _idiot,_ but it sounds fond.

“You know,” Bob says, softly, “Teller’s had a thing for you since… oh, for a long time. The first, what, August?”

“It was the September,” Teller mumbles, face red. “You were - you wore a Christmas sweater to work ‘cause it was the only clean one you had and, just, d’you know how cute you are when you get annoyed?”

“I’m not cute,” Midland mutters. 

“You are,” Teller says.

“You’re pretty cute,” Bob agrees.

“I hope you choke.”

“Woah,” Bob says, “save that for the bedroom.”

It’s exactly the kind of joke he’d expect Bob to make in a situation like this but it still catches him off-guard enough to start laughing, ducking his head as Teller snorts and leans in to press himself against Midland’s other side, half-draped over him as though he’s trying to take on the role of a weighted blanket. If pushed to, he’d call it perfect before vehemently denying he ever said something _that_ sappy out loud. 

Teller looks up at him from where he’s pressing his face against Midland’s shoulder and it’s then that Midland notices just how close they are.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Teller says, grinning, before he leans in and presses their lips together.

In some ways, it’s almost better than their first - this time, it’s not just Midland deciding to take his first and - he thought - only chance to kiss either of them, and the knowledge that he’s going to be able to do it _again_ shortly after makes him feel light. Softly, Bob laughs, running a hand through his hair and letting his nails scratch just a little against Midland’s head before he shifts and leans to kiss him there with a hum.

“Wait,” Midland says when Teller pulls away to curl up against his side again, “why didn’t you - it’s been almost a month, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh,” Bob says, “I thought you just wanted to take this side of things slowly and that the whole, y’know, boyfriend thing was kind of obvious without having to actually say it.”

“Yeah,” Teller says, before badly-stifling a laugh. _“Really_ slowly. Snail-pace. Because _someone_ didn’t realize -“

“I get it,” Midland says, flat, “I’m a dumbass.”

“Totally,” Bob says, “but it’s - we lo- we like that about you.”

“I like you too,” Midland says, laughing as he’s held just a little tighter between them. 

* * *

Almost as soon as he wakes up, he’s struck by the fact that he’s somewhere completely unfamiliar and that it’s far too warm for him to consider falling asleep again right away. It’s not enough to fully break him from drowsiness, and Midland stifles a yawn as he presses his face a little more against the back of someone’s neck - that someone, he quickly realized, being Teller, which he can tell from the lack of hair that ends up in his mouth that he knows he’d be dealing with if it was Bob.

“‘m behind you,” Bob murmurs, wrapping his arm a little more tightly around his stomach, voice low and warm. “Sh. It’s too early to be up.”

If Midland knows Bob or Teller at all, he knows that the two of them class waking up at any time before nine in the morning as _early,_ and if he could see a clock from his position he’d be tempted to argue the point, but since his line of sight is tragically blocked by Teller’s back, he can’t quite manage it. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says, coming out far more as a breath than he’d expected, which earns a shiver from Teller and a hum from Bob. 

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep again - he’d placed his bets on being quietly content between the two of them and just enjoying that until they woke up - but he must, because he wakes up to his face pressed against Teller’s chest, instead, as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“That’s really nice,” he says through a yawn, not bothering to open his eyes. “Love you.”

To his credit, Midland will think later, Teller only stiffens for a moment before he relaxes again. “Yeah,” he says, “love you too, Midland.” The words sound surprisingly serious, given who they’re coming from and how he seems to reject being serious most of the time, and Midland smiles before he frowns suddenly.

“Bob?” Midland asks, because the thought suddenly strikes him that there’s a possibility Bob might think he _only_ means -

“I’m right here,” Bob says, clearly amused as he presses a kiss to Midland’s head. “Love you, man.”

“Y’know,” Midland says a little later when he’s far more conscious, stretching out a little before following the other two in sitting up, leaning against Bob’s shoulder and closing his eyes again, “you were right.”

“I usually am,” he says, as Teller makes a noise Midland knows usually accompanies him rolling his eyes or shaking his head. “So you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific about what you mean.”

“You were right with what you said that night,” Midland says. “This _is_ gonna be a really good year.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is technically from 'mr brightside' what about it
> 
> the holiday is apparently is a real thing, 'cause i found it here http://www.holidayinsights.com/moreholidays/january.htm


End file.
